


Pre-nostalgia

by Petra



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-28
Updated: 2010-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Afraid I'm going to get you up the duff, Gladys?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pre-nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Not an Mpreg story. It's one thing if you think you're mad or if you're sure you're in a coma, but if you think you might be back in time and you remember the 1980's, that's a bit different. For [](http://giglet.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**giglet**](http://giglet.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://jamjar.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**jamjar**](http://jamjar.dreamwidth.org/). Beta read by [](http://d-generate-girl.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**d_generate_girl**](http://d-generate-girl.dreamwidth.org/).

  
"Just one thing," Sam said, pulling away from the somethingth kiss of the night; they'd stumbled into his flat and ended up against a wall, though neither of them were naked yet. "I really want you to fuck me."

Gene groaned and cupped his hand around the back of Sam's head. "Then what're we stopping for?"

Sam pulled out his wallet and fished around until he got hold of the condom, then held it up between them. "You know how to use one of these, right?"

Gene snorted. "Afraid I'm going to get you up the duff, Gladys?"

"No." Sam had had a speech all ready, translating the cascading issues of the 1980's into something that would make sense to Gene, without resorting to "I'm from the future and there are horrible diseases there," but it was too long. "I just don't want to catch anything."

"I'll wash my hands." Gene scowled. "Come on, what do you think I've got that you're so worried about? I don't hang around with prozzies for that kind of thing. That's why I've got you, isn't it?"

Sam sighed and berated himself for not bringing it up earlier when they were both clear-headed, or as clear-headed as they ever got between the whiskey and the lust. "I have no idea what you've got. That's the point."

"You don't trust me."

On the other hand, the longer this went on, the clearer he was thinking. "Do you have any idea how easy it is to get a sexually transmitted disease from unprotected sex? For chlamydia it's one in three, and as for the clap, one in five." Sam bit his tongue so as not to mention HIV, which wasn't, couldn't be relevant yet, even though it was the most relevant in his mind.

Gene rolled his eyes. "I'd know if I had any of that. Everything's working fine, Sammy-boy. Get your pants off and I'll prove it."

There was every chance that everything would be fine; he was almost certain that Gene hadn't shagged anyone else since they started, and not much before then since his missus went off with Sarah Greene, but there was a gap between being pretty sure everything would be fine and knowing it for a fact. "I can't unless you go along with this," he insisted, getting tenser by the second. "Call me a pernickety arse if you want to, but I won't."

"Christ, you're a pain." Gene sighed and took it from him. "Been to too many clinics in your day, have you?"

Sam pushed away the memories of visiting too many friends in the hospital and watching them waste away from a disease that wouldn't even have a name for nearly a decade. "Something like that, yeah."

"What a charmer you are, waving around a condom and then looking like you're going to lose your supper if I use it." Gene frowned at him. "What the hell's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing," Sam said quickly. "Nothing to do with you. And I do want you to."

"I'll believe that when you're not whiter than a sheet." Gene got an arm around him and pulled him down onto the bed, more in a wrestling move than a come-on, and pinned him there. "Get a hold on yourself."

"I'm fine," Sam insisted.

Gene snorted. "And I'm Prince of Wales. Calm down."

Sam sighed and took deep, theoretically calming breaths, trying to find the part of him that desperately wanted sex. It had been so loud five minutes beforehand. "Everything's fine," he said.

"Better now you're not shaking, I'll grant you." Gene tapped him on the forehead. "If this is one of your little ways, fine, but don't go using it as an excuse to tomcat around. I don't want to raid a club and find you with your trousers round your ankles."

"God, no."

"And no pulling out your bloody tape recorder in the bedroom, neither."

Sam laughed at the thought of scratchy, moan-filled playback. "Present in the room: DCI Hunt, naked."

"Not on tape. You want the Gene Genie, you know where to find me live."

"Of course." Sam kissed him. "Much better than Memorex any day."

Gene chuckled. "You'd better believe it."

Sam hit one of those points where he was either going to say something irredeemably soppy or he needed to do something. "Let me up and let's get back to it."

Gene didn't move except to study his expression for a long moment. "You sure?"

"As long as you're going to humor me."

Gene shifted so he could get up. "Everyone's got their tics, and you more than most, but I can't see as how it'll do me any harm."

Sam grinned and unfastened his trousers. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."


End file.
